


Practice Match

by Antimonicacid



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Semi-Public Sex, idk girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26889178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antimonicacid/pseuds/Antimonicacid
Summary: Hilda and Edelgard have a post game rematch.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	Practice Match

**Author's Note:**

> [clown emoji]

“I’m not quite sure I approve of this,” Edelgard says with her back pressed against the shed’s wall and a hand creeping up her inner thigh in slow, teasing strokes. A baseball bat jabs into the still flowering bruise on her shoulder blade, and as she tries to maneuver it away while at the same time spreading her legs, some wire gets crossed and results in her elbowing Hilda in her head.

“Shit,” Edelgard swears.

“Wow,” Hilda whines as she rubs at the sore spot on her head. She’s crouched in front of Edelgard, skinned knees resting on hardwood floor, allowing her to be in the perfect position to tug at the red tennis shorts Edelgard is wearing in spite of her newly acquired head injury. “You’re unsure so you’re going to beat me in the head?”

“It was an accident,” she defends herself with a frown. She steps out of her shorts and kicks them to the side. She tries to not pay attention to the exposed skin of her legs or whether she had put on cute panties today (she had not.)

She closes her eyes instead, focusing on strategic, lipgloss-sticky kisses placed on her calf, the sensitive backside of her knee, and stretch of skin on her thigh that makes her shiver.

“I said I was sorry,” she rolls her eyes. 

“You literally did not,” Hilda insists and perhaps that is true, but what’s the point in arguing over specifics?

“I did,” Edelgard argues over the specifics. She weaves her fingers into Hilda’s hair, her grip anything but gentle as she grabs at soft pink locks and presses forward in demand. 

Hilda doesn't move away from her insistent guidance, instead she laps at her thigh, her teeth grazing a patch of dark discoloration from their recent tennis match. Her hands trail down her sides, moving from Edelgard’s ribcage to the waistband of her underwear in a feather touch. “You are such a sore loser,” Hilda complains. “Always so cranky after a loss.”

It’s bait, easily identifiable and obvious to avoid, but Edelgard can’t help but snap to it anyways, even as her breath hitches in her chest and she wriggles under her touch. 

“As if you could call that match legitimate,” she says with a huff. “There were easily several infractions that someone overseeing would call out. At the very least, the one maneuver where you–“

Her sentence ends in a fumble of words. With an uncharacteristic quickness, Hilda is up from her knees and into a standing position pressed against Edelgard’s torso. She pushes Edelgard back, accidentally knocking over several tennis rackets in the process until Edelgard is fumbling into a nearby table and swearing.

But Hilda holds her steady, a bruising grip on her hip as she crowds between her legs, her lips on Edelgard’s throat. She’s hot against her, burning up and sticky as she rests her body weight against Edelgard, and pulls her closer still. The smell of sweet perfume mixed with physical exertion is memorizing. It fills her lungs with every inhale.

“Sore loser,” Hilda repeats and nips at her. 

There’s some smart aleck retort in the back of her head, but she loses hold of it as Hilda sucks at her neck in a sharp aching sensation. Edelgard digs her nails into the wood of the table she’s situated on in an attempt to maintain clarity throughout it. 

It’s irritating. Everything about Hilda is irritating from her ongoing commentary to her lazy resolve. Evidently this extends to hooking up with her as well. 

But even as Edelgard rolls her eyes, she tilts her head back in compliance, silken silver hair falling in waves as she hooks her leg and pulls Hilda closer. Deft fingers pull at the hem of Edelgard’s shirt, pulling it upward, until her breasts are exposed to the humid air surrounding them. 

Hilda whines in disappointment. 

“Sports bras are not cute,” she complains while pawing at her chest.

“Sports bras are convenient,” Edelgard says defensively. She lifts her arms and allows for her shirt to be removed, the offending bra following shortly after. Hilda runs a finger over the red indents left by the elastic and frowns. 

“You should get resized,” she tells her. “Most girls don’t actually know their accurate measurements. It’s probably why you’re so cranky.” 

Edelgard can feel her cheeks tinge red, both at the extent of her nudity and the unprovoked accusation that she is wearing her clothes incorrectly. 

She crosses her arms over her chest and nervously looks around, double checking that the heavy crate full of footballs is still shoved in front of the shed’s door.

“My sports bra is perfectly fine,” She insists. 

Hilda pays no mind as she removes her own shirt. Her bra is… cute. Lacey pink and white that shows off her significant cleavage. Edelgard doesn’t have long to state, and at once Hilda is back to kissing at her neck, one hand fondling Edelgard’s breast and squeezing gently. 

“See?” Hilda says gleefully. “Now  _ that’s _ cute.” As if confirming her observation, she pinches Edelgard’s nipple. She rubs the pink nub in between index and thumb, twisting indelicately, and refusing to stop even as Edelgard grips her shoulders in a claw-like hold. As fingernails dig deep into her skin, Hilda mouths at her breast and sucks sharply, a red blossom left behind. 

She trails farther down, until her tongue can circle the pink edge of her nipple in one slow motion. Edelgard shudders as Hilda pulls it between her teeth. A hot and delicate pain envelopes her, and without meaning to, a moan tears past her throat. It’s an infuriatingly desperate sound to even her own ears. 

Refusing to appear as anything but calm and collected, Edelgard bites down on her tongue to swallow down any other pathetic, whiny noises she might produce. Still, she can feel bursting red on her cheeks and her breath come labored and uneven.

Undeterred, Hilda continues to toy with her. Light kisses and quick flicks of her tongue. “I’m going to win this one too,” She tells her without naming a game.

The hand holding Edelgard’s hip steady travels downward, catching on the waistband of Edelgard’s not-cute-panties, and slipping underneath the waistband. Teasing fingers comb past coarse curls until they find slick heat dripping from her. Without pause she presses in, stroking long and slow in a rocking motion that knocks the color out of Edelgard’s vision. 

Edelgard searches for a complaint–an insult, a swear, any type of admonishment or grievance–but comes up empty as she rolls her hips forward and tightens her grip on Hilda’s broad shoulders. 

This time Edelgard can’t hold back from moaning, not with Hilda’s purposeful manipulations. Measured and careful, she sets her own pace of massaging circles into Edelgard’s entrance. Two fingers curl upwards, they push inside with little resistance, and as they do Edelgard collapses into Hilda. Her hands hold tight trying to maintain balance and her face buries into Hilda’s neck. Her mouth falls open in a whine, and the taste of perfume lingers on her tongue as she bites down. 

Hilda’s breath hitches. She cranes her neck, allowing a soft sigh to escape and providing a more expansive canvass for Edelgard to explore which she does so eagerly. This time it’s her turn to kiss and bite. She’s vengeful and hungry, dragging her teeth against Hilda’s pulse and nipping at her jaw. Her tongue traces the shell of her ear, and when she grows bored of that she bites down, a low moan reverberating from her chest as she does. 

Hilda whimpers, but doesn’t let up. She wraps her arm around Edelgard’s waist, and holds her up with that alone. Her movements are constricted, neither had bothered to fully remove Edelgard’s not-cute-panties, but she manages shallow motions fingering her open. 

Edelgard grinds down on her hand now past the point of caring about appearances. Tiny  _ ah, ah, ah’s _ fall from her lips in a constant stream as she pants into Hilda’s neck.

“Come on, babe,” Hilda purrs into her ear. She hates pet names, moreso when they come from Hilda, and yet in the moment she can’t bring herself to care. 

And although she won’t beg–that she refuses–she does whine a bit, but only a bit. 

“ _ Hilda, _ ” She’s more ghost of a breath than moan. Her eyes close shut and her grip tightens until she risks leaving marks on Hilda’s bare shoulders. Okay, she is  _ definitely _ leaving marks, but those are small details in the grand scheme of things. 

What matters is the way Hilda thrusts into her. The way she curls her fingers in and rubs right against the spot that makes Edelgard lose every thought she had ever held. What matters is how strong the grip on her waist is. That it’ll leave bruises keeping her sore for days to come. The way she mumbles a consistent mantra of encouragement for Edelgard to just let go. 

And so she does. Her body tenses, legs squeezing around Hilda’s waist and chest tightening until she’s a ball wound past any point of return about to burst and–

Edelgard cries out louder than she should considering their tentative position south of the tennis court. She doesn’t care though. Overwhelming sensations of pleasure overtake her body in rolling waves, her vision blurring at the edges, and entire frame shuddering in release. 

Hilda holds her steady. Still fucking Edelgard through her orgasm until she is simply boneless and shaking in her arms. 

When Edelgard is completely spent, no energy left in her to even sit up straight, Hilda pulls her hand free allowing her to cradle her slightly. She pushes away sweat slick hair from Edelgard’s eyes and presses soft kisses along the length of her jaw. She mumbles something throughout it, something Edelgard can’t quite make out. 

“Excuse me?” Edelgard asks for clarity. 

Hilda pulls back and grins. Her eyes are squinted in cheeky achievement as she proudly tells her, “I told you I was going to win.” 

**Author's Note:**

> My twitter is [Here](https://twitter.com/biheretic)


End file.
